A dealer in Mystic Falls
by gloomren
Summary: Walt's dead. Jesse is driving through the country without an aim. He's frustrated and lost. But the night he arrives in Mystic Falls a mysterious 'drug dealer' offers him to be his partner. Who is this creepy guy and how does he know his name?


**Ok, so I got pretty bored and after watching Breaking Bad and The Vampire Diaries on the same day I found myself typing this.**

**This fanfic is mostly about Jesse Pinkman and there's not so much of that supernatural-action thing. Since I noticed that I'm in love with that character I had to take him with me to Mystic Falls;) It's just a random one-shot for people who are looking for something entertaining to read out of boredom. I tried to keep Jesse' language within bounds. Hope you can enjoy it.**

Hey, you. Guess you're expecting one of that sappy descriptions. I'm not the person who's selling you that writing shit. You wanna know what I sell? I sell crystal, man. And don't even think about starting with a sleepy sermon. I'm through all of it, you. I know that soap opera of my parents by heart. And that worried look of them. So it's up to you whether you get involved with my shit or not.

I'm Jesse Pinkman and this is my story.

It's after midnight and I'm sitting in the bleakest part of the forest leaning against that yames caravan. There's not much to do for me now. I wasn't even able to cook that crystal shit the way I wanted. I wasn't able to get the life they all wanted me to have. They were all bitching around like "Get a job! Stop walking around in that awful clothes! Stay away from pot!" Of course I already had my tries. I dressed like one of that salesman-bitches. I looked for a job. And you know what I got? They asked me to put a damn custome on and fidget to gain the attention of some idiots.

"Whitey, you bitch. You just picked the right moment to go to hell."

I'm yelling. I admit that I had some pot before. And that makes me become more emotional. The words are just bursting out. I'm shouting them all through the darkness. It's the only way to keep me from crying. Yeah, man. I sometimes cry out of frustration.

"Tell me what to do now, son of a bitch! Hey, you! You used to be my teacher, asshole! Oh of course! It's all my fault. It was my fault that I got a bitch of a job. And I will never have the chance to have something better than that because I have never concentrate on school. I had to concentrate on my chemistry lessons. So I could end up good. Good like you, huh?"

Then I stop yelling. First I think I'm being paranoid again. There was a sound. A rushing like a car flying past me. I jump on my feet and check the damn forest for something animated. It's impossible to see above more than a few inches with that asshole flashlight. But there's still nothing.

I don't even know where I am actually. After I've been driving around without an aim I found myself here. I decide it's better for me to walk around a little. Just to get to know this place.

I get back in the damn van and drive in direction of the path. It's not easy for me to keep calm when I had cloud my mind. There're are so many flashbacks I can't even hold on to and- Okay, now I just had hit something. There was something on the road. Like a man?

I get off the car and run to the motionless thing. "Son of bitch!" A guy is lying on the road. Great! Another one to add to my list of victims. But I admit that it's not as bad as melting a body in your bathroom. I lean forward to him to look after his pulse. "Finally! You made it!" The unfamiliar voice makes me shrink back.

I'm not sure about the origin direction of that voice. Now I'm taking a few steps back still glaring at the place where the body was lying. The bodie's gone! I try to hold against my fear and speak with a shaky tone: "Is this some kind of joke? Hey, bitch! Come out of the damn place you are hiding in! Talk to me!" I sound like that useless character who's always killed first in one of that horror movies. There's a cold breeze against my ear. "Welcome to Mystic Falls, Pinkman!"

I shudder. And normally it takes much more than that to make me do so. My instincts are yelling not to turn to him. But that's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to kick his ass for that shit. I turn my face swiftly and look straight in a pair of blue ice. Something's scary about them, man. "I'm Damon. Your soon-to-be partner. Wanna cook some Meth?"

He's smiling at me like Anton Chigurh while he's offering me some of his business plans. I just here him talking. It's impossible to concentrate on his words. And I can't move, man! Like in one of this nightmares where you can't either scream nor run. I don't know where I've got this idea from but I know immediately that he's a killer. You might say that drug dealers are mostly killers but that bitch's different, man. He's really badass.


End file.
